Dark Souls: Shadow of the Broken King
by Raging Cipher
Summary: Lost in the dark, in a strange land, with no hope, a woman must find a power within herself, and find a way to break a curse... Before she becomes a mindless hollow. But there are much greater forces at work in this strange land, and she finds herself trapped in a age old war that's been raging since the dawn of time.


_ Dark Souls: Shadow of the Broken King._

_ Light and darkness are two mysterious things. Without one, the other cannot exist, yet they cannot co-exist peacefully. Light, and Dark are constantly swimming around each other, each striking each other but never dealing a lethal blow. They're always together, yet something is always between them… A divider, a bridge that can never be crossed, a barrier that keeps them from being one and the same... Humanity._

Light and dark alike have tried to possess humans time and time again, causing a rift between their many groups. Humans take sides, not realizing that the endless battle would be their undoing. The dark sign marks many who fall prey to both light or dark, ceasing to be a barrier, and becoming a vessel for both good and evil. The confliction inside of them drives them mad, and they're cursed with an un-death, forced to relive their horrors over… and over… until they slowly rot away in time… Hollowed. The undead of Kingrad are driven south to the dead land, where they're left to rot till the end of time.

The old tales speak of an undead who may one day break the curse, and free humanity from their infinite loop of misery, a ruler that will rise up against all odds and banish the curse for all eternity.

…

**Chapter 1**

"Yes… Yes… That is how the old stories go."

Her eyes jerked awake to the soft voice. She found herself in a small space, barely large enough to fit her, and barely tall enough to breathe, which she was having trouble doing anyway. Between darkness and silence, she could not tell where she was, and she had no memory of how she got there. Her flesh stung, and her back ached, and every breath she took was ragged and dry.

"Oh dear… Oh my… I do believe you'll have to work your way out by yourself. Come now, it shouldn't be too difficult, most of the hard work has been done." The voice whispers above her, followed by a sickly coughing fit.

She groans and places her head back against the cold surface she was laying on. It felt like wood, but wet, and splintery… A feeling she remembered from rotten docks on a lake, from a memory she could not recall the time and place of. She pressed her knee against the top of her dark cell, and pushed hard. The wood made a crackling noise as it began to split. She could see little streams of light through the slowly widening cracks. She took a moment to breathe deeply and take in some of the cool fresh air. Her eyes watered as the chill whisked away the stale damp musk from before. Something was holding the ceiling of her cell together, and made a creaking noise as she pushed.

After several moments of this, she hears a loud pop, as the ceiling gives way, breaking into two pieces, and bathing her in eye-burningly bright moonlight. She shields her face as her eyes adjust to the brightness. When they adjust, she looks around, hoping to find the source of the soft voice from before. Nothing could be seen but tall, blackened trees. She felt a twinge of sadness at the ashen forest around her. Something about the place seemed… Wrong.

She clambers out, her legs weak and her arms aching. She gets her first look at her cell, a coffin, with no markings and nothing fancy, no charms or gifts, just a small, wooden box. This struck her as odd. Most coffins were left with coin and jewels, an ancient custom that she couldn't remember the reason for. She reached to touch the edges of the box where the bent nails had been pulled only moments ago, only to see her blood caked, rotting hand, the torn and rotten flesh on her arms a burned black and red colour that one might see on a piece of meat left over a fire for too long. Her reaction, a raspy scream, broke the silent night air like a knife through a crisp apple core, before returning to the deafening silence.

After the shock wore off, she felt nothing but terror and curiosity. She wanted to know who the voice had been. She wanted to know where she was, how she'd gotten there, and what had happened to her. She suddenly became aware of an acute burning sensation on her back, near her shoulder blade, she reached back, only to feel a burn scar in the shape of a ring. It was radiating a detectable heat, like a furnace. The dead flesh around the mark was cold and clammy.

The rags covering her weren't enough to knock the chilling breeze off of her, and soon she found herself shivering as she walked. The moonlight was barely enough to light her path, though she didn't really have one. She found herself wandering in a direction, unsure of why. The silence was terrifying, and any little noise, most of them her own, sent her running and panicking until she ran out of breath, at which point she walked again, starting the cycle over.

She walked for what seemed like hours, before coming to a stop, gazing at the sight before her. A drop off of a cliff, so far she could not see the bottom. She felt the sudden urge to jump and embrace the pitch black below, but stepped back instead, gasping for air. The dark was beginning to poison her. She could feel it running through her bones and soul, filling her head with terrible thoughts. She turned to start walking back, only to find the coffin still lain out on the ground before her, lid broken off as she'd left it.

The world felt like it was closing in on her as she tried another path. She was confused, lost, and terrified in a dark place, with no friends, and no hope. She found herself walking circles, ending up right back where she started. After a few tries of this, she falls to her knees at the foot of the coffin and begins to cry. Her hand smacks a metal object. She yelps in pain, but soon numbs it out, realizing what had caused her pain, was a small, rusted oil lamp.

Funny how such a small, seemingly ordinary thing, such as a half empty oil lamp, could bring her so much joy and hope, that she hugged the earth and thanked… something. She wasn't sure who or what she was thanking, but she didn't really care either. Then her hopes are shattered, as she realizes that she has no way to light it. She was still in the dark, and still alone, with a useless lantern. She curses the sky and holds her head in her elbows, finding no hair to pull.

"That won't…" The soft voice whispers, interrupted with a coughing fit. "Help, deary… You'll find… that this place doesn't pick favorites, and doesn't give… gifts to the weak."

She looks around for the source, confused, and sees a small woman leaning against a broken tombstone. She gives the woman a confused look, and takes a step back.

"Come now dear… I won't bite… Nyeheheh*Cough cough*" She rolls on her side and coughs up a mass of blood. "I haven't much time left, but if you wish to wander through these woods for the rest of eternity, so be it."

That was plenty of encouragement. She approached the old woman cautiously, and kneeled beside her.

"Take this, dear." The woman holds out a hand, offering a small orb of twisting fabric, a warm heat radiates from it, it gives her a strange sense of déjà vu. She takes the orb, and untangles the cloth instinctively. She feels warmth inside her grow, as the fabric slowly unwinds into a strand of cloth, then fades into a glowing powder. Suddenly her heart begins beating, she can feel her hair against her back, and her once burned hands are covered by a fair, soft flesh. She could remember a few things she couldn't before. She remembered the lake from before, where shadowed figures placed her corpse on a raft, and left it to float downstream. She remembered her red hair, and she remembered her love for forests, and best of all… She remembered her name.

"Well what is it dear? Your name?" The old woman coughed. "Beautiful young lass such as yourself must have a name to match?"

"V…Vex… I remember that name." Vex heard her own rough voice. Her throat was sore, and she couldn't recall the last time she'd had a drink.

"Yes yes… Quite fitting for one such as you… Listen… you must make your way to the valley of shattered swords, and you must meet…. the broken king. He will tell you where your journey will take you next… Take this." The old woman takes an old rucksack off of her back, and lays it on the ground at Vex's feet. "I've got but moments left, my dear… It's best you run along…" The woman closes her eyes and coughs a few times. Vex nods silently, picking up the bag.

After walking a ways, she decides to open the bag. Within, she finds an old rusted dagger, a set of clothing, not completely unlike what the old woman had been wearing, an old loaf of bread, barely edible, and a strange flask, made out of what appeared to be crystal and corked with a handsome bit of what appeared to be oak wood, full of a glowing orange liquid. The flask draws her attention, and she picks it up from the bag. The bottle radiated with a soft heat and gave her an odd sensation, it brought her both happiness, and a slight twinge of déjà vu. She was unsure of where she'd seen one before, but was certain she had. The flask felt like an old friend, and Vex could see no harm in drinking a bit, what's the worst that it could do? Kill her? She'd already beaten death once today.

She tips it up and takes a large gulp. It had a strangely familiar burn, like a fine whiskey, with a hint of smoke flavor. It was quite delicious, but more than that. She felt her aches and pains slowly disappear, and soon felt completely rejuvenated. She looks at the little flask and smiles. This little thing was going to be her best friend, she could tell. After the soft heat from the firewater hit her stomach, she began to don the clothing, an old red dress, a black scarf, a pair of cloth shoes with hard leather bottoms, and a pair of cloth gloves. They were quite comfortable and old as they may have been, were well stitched and fit almost perfectly. Best of all, they knocked the cold wind off of her much better than the old rags she'd had on before.

From the pocket of the dress, fell a small flint rock, a fire starter. She hurriedly scrambles to the ground to pick it back up. She'd heard of starting fires with flint and steel before, but didn't know how to do it herself. She, nonetheless, decides to strike it with the old dagger, and after a few violent swings, sparks begin to spatter off of it. Success! She gathers some of the dead grass from beneath her, and began to pile it up. Soon, she had a small pile of old pine chips and dead grass.

Striking the flint over the tinder proved an excellent way to start a small fire, and before she knew it, she had a tiny fire both on the ground, and in her lantern. The darkness around her cowered away in fear, and the trees seemed to shift as if to make way for its retreat. She could see a stone path lain out before her. It was so near, that she could see no possible way that she hadn't at the very least felt the path before the lantern was lit. Maybe she was just imagining things, though.

The path was long and winding, and incredibly quiet… almost… disturbingly so. Her only companions in the dimly lit fog were the sound of her own breath, and the soft sound of her foot steps against the old mossy stone. How could this path exist? She'd just run this direction a few moments ago, and ended up nearly falling off of a cliff. Her mind began to wander, thinking of old tales of black sorcery, perhaps these woods were under a curse? Perhaps the darkness here truly was poisonous.

She got so deep into her own thought that she tripped over something in her path. She fell to her face with a clatter and a clunk, as the lantern hit the ground, yet surprisingly didn't break. She rolled on to her back to see what obstacle had caused her such grief, and before her sat a sword stuck in what appeared to be a pile of ashes and bones. Who had left this here? She reaches a hand out to pull the burned sword out of the heap, but on touch, the ash pile bursts into flames, engulfing Vex in a bright white light, and suddenly, she found herself seated in front of the warm blaze, staring intently into the flames. Suddenly she felt home. Without realizing it, she soon found herself dozing off by the light of the flickering flames, feeling sure that the fire would protect her from anything that might do her harm.

She awoke what could have been seconds, minutes, or hours later, she had no clue, to the sensation of something rubbing against her thigh. She lazily opened an eye, only to see a hand digging through her pockets. Vex panicked and rolling fast to her right, delivered a kick to the assailant's chest. She heard a gasp and a groan escape the dimly lit marauder's lips. Vex grabbed her rusted dagger and charged forwards, with murder as her intention. Who was this person to take HER things, HER precious things? They were HERS and no one else could have them.

Before Vex could blink, she was on top of the attacker, dagger-to-throat. She caught herself just as she was about to drive it through deep into their neck. Upon thinking for a moment, and getting a better glimpse, she found out that her assailant was less of a "They" and more of a "Her". Soft blue eyes stared up at her in the dim light with a look of pure terror. She ran her thumb over the woman's face, unsure if she was real, or just another illusion. The soft, warm skin against her fingers assured her that this was real, she wasn't dreaming.

"Please… I didn't mean any real harm by it! I… I just…" The woman, maybe a little younger than Vex herself, blushed brightly

"You're just? You're just? Sorry you got caught? Sorry you picked the wrong person to mess with?" Vex pressed her knee hard against the woman's thigh, sending a splitting pain up the other woman's body.

"N-NO! OW! Stop it! OKAY Stop it! I'm sorry! I don't want to die, please!"

"You're… You're lucky I'm in a good mood today or I'd… I'd…. I'd kill you." Vex climbs off of her. "What were you stealing from me for?"

"I wasn't stealing, I was just… Looking… to borrow some food or anything… something." The girl curled up into a ball.

"Well… You… you could've just asked, you know?" Vex looked at her, still groggy from her nap.

"Yeah, right, asking gets you a long way in Lordsfall."

"Lordsfall?" Vex responds with a confused look on her face. "Is that where we are? Where is Lordsfall?"

"Lordsfall is right here, where you are, it's the only place I remember, but not the only place I know… The air in these parts carries a curse upon it… Makes you forget things, makes you greedy… makes you crazy." The girl let out a hysterical laugh, before regaining her posture. "Do you have any food?"

"I think I've got some stale bread in my bag… It's all I've got." She digs into her belongings and finds a bit of dried bread, just as she thought. She breaks it in half and shares it with the girl. "I suppose I'll have to find more."

"No need to worry love, even if you don't eat, even if you die of starvation, it won't release you from this curse. You'll come popping back up here, at one of these… gods forsaken bonfires…" This girl was certifiably insane, Vex thought as she chewed on the stale bread. It tasted more like a salted cracker, and she was trying to forget that it had mold growing on it.

"You're crazy... This is all just some weird dream." Vex shakes her head. "I'll wake up any time now."

"You see, the thing about dreams is, if you realize you're dreaming, you wake up. Most of the times anyway. You might want to watch your back in this darkness, or better, get someone else to do it for you."


End file.
